CHAPTER XII.

THE HADJI.

'The world is a small place, after all!' thought Colville, as he left

the Colonel's bungalow behind him. 'Think of hearing here that

anecdote of dear Mary's father from that old subadar! Well, well,

"life," as some one says, "is a perpetual enigma, to which no

theological system offers a satisfactory solution--against the reefs

of which all philosophies break into foam and empty bubbles." But

here are more than bubbles, by Jove! Now what is all this deuced row

about?' he added, drawing his sword, on seeing before him the authors

of the noise he had heard, engaged still in a wild and fierce _mêlée_.

This was in a sequestered part of the town, and near some of the

ruins of houses shaken down by the earthquakes some forty years ago.

One man was contending single-handed against no less than five, and

in the clear starlight Colville could see the flash of their gleaming

eyes, their set teeth, their dark and infuriated faces. The man

assaulted wore an Afghan costume, a cloak, a kind of blouse with

loose sleeves, and on his head a _loonjee_. The others had flowing

garments and large turbans, and were armed with heavily-loaded clubs,

against which the stranger was defending himself with no small

dexterity with only a pilgrim's staff; for, by his wallet, gourd, and

beads, he was evidently a hadji, who had become involved in a quarrel

with some Wahabis, who, it seemed afterwards, had been mocking him

for praying at the tomb of a Santon, and told him he should call on

God, and on no imaginary saint, on which, he had proceeded at once to

lay about him with his pilgrim's staff.

'To call a man a Wahabi,' says Sterndale, 'is, to nine-tenths of

Englishmen in India, to call him a fanatic, a rebel, a sort of

Mahometan fenian, one whom the police should take under special

surveillance, and whose every action is open to suspicion.'

Like the English Puritans, they--in addition to deriding the

intercession of saints--despoiled the mosques of their lamps and

decorations, broke down all shrines, prohibited music and dancing,

and smoking was denounced as a mortal sin; and now those whom

Colville found himself opposed to would undoubtedly--but for his

sword and revolver--have made short work of it with the unfortunate

hadji.

He drove them back a few paces, and the hadji, while panting for

breath, and streaming with blood from more than one contused wound,

continued to revile them bitterly.

'Wahabis--accursed Wahabis!' he exclaimed, 'dare they speak to me? I

am a Soonee, not a dog! I am not a Shiah, the follower of Ali, but

an orthodox Soonee, like my forefathers, blessed be God and His

Prophet! Wretches,' he added, with all the ferocious rancour of

religion and race, 'your souls will yet defile hell!'

'Begone, and leave the man to go on his way,' said Colville,

authoritatively, as he waved his sword, for he knew enough of Arabic

and Hindostanee to understand what was said and the nature of the

brawl.

'Dogs!' resumed the irate hadji, encouraged by his presence and

succour; 'know ye not that the time is coming when the Wahabis shall

be judged according to their deserts, and each in passing a dead

man's grave shall say, "Would to God that I lay there!"'

'Dog of a Soonee, when will that time come to pass?' asked one,

jeeringly.

'When the sun rises in the west,' shrieked the hadji, frantic with

rage; 'when the beast shall rise out of the earth near Mecca; when a

smoke shall cover the earth, and the Mahdi shall come to everyone and

fill the earth with righteousness.'

And much more to this effect did he vow with singular force and

fluency, for the hadji was an Afghan, and, so far as regards the

external forms of their religion, the Afghans are wonderfully devout,

and so much of their conversation, whatever the subject, is so tinged

with their religion and the Koran that one would imagine the whole

people, from the Ameer to the humblest camel-driver, were engaged in

holy reflections, and scarcely is a sentence uttered by them without

some reference to the Deity.

One of the Wahabis now seemed to lose what little remains of sense or

temper he had left, and, uttering a savage yell, swung aloft his

ponderous _lohbunda_ or staff, which was heavily shod with iron--a

weapon one well-directed stroke from which would have spattered the

brains of the hadji on the street--but Colville, quick as lightning,

warded off the blow with his sword, in the process of which his right

arm tingled to the shoulder; and as at that moment the tramp of a

patrol from an inlying picquet was heard approaching, the brawlers

took to flight, and Colville was left face to face with the man whose

life he had saved.

'Sahib, I have to thank you gratefully for this prompt and courageous

succour, but for which these dogs would no doubt have slain me,' said

the pilgrim in English; 'as it is, they have handled me so roughly

that I am barely able to stand.'

'You speak English very fluently,' said Colville, with genuine

surprise. 'How is this?'

'My uncle was a _muhafez dufter_, or keeper of the records, in the

office of the district magistrate, near Peshawur, who educated me to

work in his office; but at his death I went back to the hills and

became an Afghan soldier under Shere Ali.'

'And now----'

'I am a poor harmless hadji, Mahommed Shah, seeking but to save his

soul,' said he, lowering his keen and glittering eyes, as he looked

steadily around him. 'In saving me you have done a good action, and

what says the fourth chapter of the Koran? "Verily, God will not

wrong anyone, even the weight of an ant, and, if it be a good action,

He will double it, and recompense it in His sight with a great and

just reward." But these thrice accursed Wahabis,' he added, grinding

his teeth with rage, and making thereby a very unpleasant sound, 'may

be swallowed up by the earth as the accuser of Moses was.'

Colville looked around him warily. In the dark, unlighted, and

tortuous streets of the city this poor man might easily be overtaken

and murdered by these fanatics, if they were--as Colville did not

doubt--still lurking watchfully about, so he said,

'Come with me to the Balla Hissar; I am quartered there, and can keep

you in safety for the night; besides, your wounds must be dressed,

and in the morning I would advise your instantly quitting Jellalabad.'

'As-taffur-ullah! that will I, sahib; and by the five keys of

knowledge, I will never forget your kindness.'

The citadel was close by. There Colville took his new acquaintance

past the sentries to the rooms assigned as his quarters, quaint and

lofty apartments with marble floors, and walls covered with beautiful

arabesques, splendid but comfortless, and, summoning the soldier who

acted as his servant, with lights, some wine and bandages, he desired

him to bathe and bind up the wounds of the old Afghan wanderer, who

was on the point of sinking, and would have done so, but for some

water which he took, dashed with brandy, despite the precepts of the

Koran.

'You have had a narrow escape!' said Colville, looking at some of his

bruises.

'It is perhaps useless to bind these wounds.'

'Why?'

'Because if a man is to die he will die.'

'But if a man is ailing surely he may be cured?'

'Yes,' replied the hadji, 'through the Koran.'

'Koran again!' thought Colville. 'You mean by faith in it?'

'Yes; by writing therefrom some holy sentences on paper, and drinking

the water wherein that paper has been washed clean.'

'You have heard, I suppose, that the Ameer has gone over to the

Russians?' said Colville to change the subject.

'Yes, sahib,' replied the hadji, in whose eyes a strange light now

appeared, 'but he is dying of mortal disease, and will never reach

Tashkend.'

'Then Yakoub Khan will succeed.'

'Yes; the man who has already aspired to sit on a _musnud_ (throne)

is little likely to content himself with a carpet, especially if

supported by the bayonets of the _Ghora logue_. By the Prophet, no!'

added the hadji, referring to what was well known--that Yakoub Khan

had conspired against his father, who, in consequence, had kept him

for years imprisoned in a dungeon without light.

The hadji seemed a genuine Afghan, and considerably past middle-age.

He was tall, spare, and muscular, with aquiline--almost

Jewish--features; high cheek bones, and strong, black, glittering

eyes, with an intensity and keenness in their expression that

reminded Colville of those of a mountain eagle. He was fairer

complexioned than most of his people, among whom even red hair is

sometimes met with; but his face had been cleft from temple to chin

by a tulwar stroke in some past battle or brawl; and now the livid

mark of that terrible slash could be seen distinctly as altering, and

in some measure distorting, features that were naturally very regular.

After partaking of a little food of the plainest kind, he performed

the ablutions enjoined by his faith, spread a white cloth over his

kneeling-carpet, and, turning his face in the direction of Mecca,

said his _salat al Moghreb_, or evening prayer, while Colville took

himself off to the mess-room; and when he returned the hadji was

lying on the verandah outside, fast asleep, and cosily muffled up in

his dark-coloured choga, or camel-hair cloak.

In the morning he had left the Bala Hissar, and gone, none knew

where, save that he had been seen going towards Cabul by the way of

the Ali Musjid Pass.

It never occurred to Leslie Colville, in performing the acts of

kindness he had done to this stranger, whether there might be peril

or evil evolved from them in the future; or whether the man was--as

he ultimately proved to be--a keen and observant spy, come to watch

and note the strength, preparations, and object of Sir Samuel

Browne's column; and, poor though the hadji looked, Colville's

servant--a more than usually sharp example of Private Thomas

Atkins--had found him in the early morning reckoning over a quantity

of gold in his wallet, and one of these which he dropped was found to

be of the last Russian mintage.

Colville of the Guards, Volume 2 (of 3) · 第 12 / 20 章